Angel from Hell
by CyKiESuMMerS
Summary: Hellfire in the EvoVerse. The X-Men celebrate Halloween Kitty-style and a stranger in disguise shows up on their doorstep.  Trick or treat?


**A.N.- New story! Halloween-inspired. Let me know your reviews and I'll acknowledge all!**

**Chapter 1**

**-Devil in Disguise-**

It was the night of Halloween in Bayville, New York, and the streets were being swept by cold and brittle winds that scratched the dry fall leaves over and through the concrete and asphalt pavements.

Each street was dark due to the black night and lit only by yellowish glows coming from street lights. The moon was high in the air, large and round in its silvery orb entirety.

Anyone who looked up at the shining full moon would almost expect to see the silhouette of a pointy-hatted witch flying across it on a broom stick.

The neighborhoods were beginning to bustle with the quiet wonders and excitement bundling up inside trick or treaters and various parents beginning to escort their children.

The streets crawled with monsters, creatures, and characters of all sizes and shapes. Up one way however, was a mansion whose many windows were beginning to light up as the residents prepared themselves with a holiday of mixed tradition.

Inside this cozy and bright-looking mansion, were mutants who were often compared to the real-life versions of the creatures looking for treats. Tonight was Halloween though. And tonight they would be costumed as normal teens dressed in normal Halloween costumes. Depending on one's definition of normal.

Instead of Christmas Lights, someone had stringed the foyer of the mansion with a wire dangling rows of skull-shaped light bulbs. The green grass of the large lawn past the now open gate of the manor was scattered with red leaves, and pumpkins of many sizes filled up the patio.

There were a good number of crudely carved pumpkins, some sharing the same toothy grins while others leered at trick-or-treaters. They had been carved a few days prior to the holiday by the residents of the mansion, each bonding in the act of scooping out orange glop.

Fake cob webs hung from the pillars and bushes decorating the mansion's front, and ragged white sheet ghosts draped from the balconies of the mansion, swaying the wind.

A goofy scare crow stuck roughly into the lawn, now leaned to the side slightly, its skeletal wooden frame seemed to shiver in the following gusts.

A black cauldron filled with candy and smoking with dry ice, managed to spill out white vapor that crept over the lawn, giving it a graveyard look helped by the gray and authentic-looking tombstones that haphazardly stuck out in jagged rows, with cracks running through their faces.

As the night gave way, young people in costumes began trooping towards this "haunted" mansion to either ask for candy, or if older than 15, to enter the doors for a Halloween party.

Coming out of the darkness of the streets, and into the orange glow glistening from the cheerful home, a stranger carefully rapped the oaken doors of the mansion, with the heavy metal knocker protruding from the door.

Upon the three hollow yet echoing knocks, the door immediately swung open, revealing much laughter, noise, and spooky cheer inside.

A young man in a Rambo costume was at the entrance, a ragged strip of red cloth tied in a head band across his forehead and around his tousled brown hair matched the red of his scarlet sunglasses which must have also been part of the ensemble. He was clad in nothing but torn khaki army pants with a fake knife to boot, tucked into the tight black elastic of his protruding boxers which clung to his slim yet muscle-layered hips. His feet were in black combat boots and his ripped torso had bits of a black wife beater clinging to it, almost becoming a ripped open vest.

Red lines slashed his bare chest and stomach in a flurry of smeared finger prints, a red gash on his perfect arms, and a line across his nose. From the diameter of the lines, it could be discerned that perhaps female hands and fingers doused in red paint had made their mark on his body.

There was even a blatant small red hand print on the muscular shoulder blade of this person in the Rambo costume.

He had a bowl balanced in his right arm, the door knob in his left.

Upon answering the door with a wide smile and a party going on behind him, the boy's face slackened in a brief second when the door revealed a guest he did not expect.

His mouth hung open in the middle of shouting out a "heeeyyy".

A silky brown eyebrow quirked over the red sunglasses, "Heh-heh-h-hey?" Was all that could be mustered unsurely? The 'y' lingered off.

The tall and slim Rambo then offered the bowl of candy in his hand. "Trick…or treat?"

The visitor replied haughtily, "Aren't I supposed to be the one asking?"

Rambo shrugged, the plastic artillery belt strapped from his shoulder to his waist slipped slightly, down the riveted mass of muscle that was his tricep and over his perfect abs.

He simply held the bowl out, and thus lithe fingers plucked out a king-sized Crunch bar.

Rambo grinned to the side of his face and nodded loosely, then saying enthusiastically, slurring very slightly as if drunk, "Great choice! One uh my personal favorites. I like your taste. And nice costume too! If I were a douche, and let's say I am tonight, then I'd use a pick up line like, 'Did it hurt? When ya fell from the sky?' Then for extra measure and creativity, I'd add, ''Cause you look exactly like one of those Victoria's Secret angels!"

The boy laughed to himself, "Nah I'm just playing. You can slap me now if you want."

He giggled slightly to himself again and his shoulder fell against the door frame, but then he regained his composure and said, "Oh my gosh I'm sorry did I insult you?"

When the visitor would not turn away and leave after taking a piece of candy, the boy's altered brain contemplated just closing the door on the visitor's face, not really sure of what else to do.

His hazy red vision zeroed in on sharp silvery eyes that pierced through the haze of his inebriation and the ruby glass.

Finally, the Victoria's Secret angel responded, "Well, well, well. What an interesting…very interesting welcome. Are you Cyclops?"

The boy shook his head from side to side exaggeratedly as an intoxicated person would do, the tail of his red strip swung with each shake. "Nah, I'm Rambo. See the head band?"

He pointed to his face and then uncertainly straightened up, stepped back, and brought his arm outstretched in front of him, with the door in tow, about to close the gap of the open doorframe.

A silver-leathered heel stepped in so the door closed upon it.

"Ah, Rambo…Will you escort me inside and show me around?"

Rambo, clearly confused and then submissive, not wanting to bother with the confusion, slumped back and let her in.

He accepted her offer for him to give her a tour in the midst of the hallows eve celebration.

Inside, red lights mixed in with strobe lights danced off the walls in frenetic seizures of shadows and light, filtered through the snug crowd of Bayville teens dancing in naughty costumes.

A blue devil slid down the banister of the long staircase, and fake bats hung from the chandelier above the dance floor which was now being used to dance to funky beats. The black bats made of simple paper wings and black Styrofoam balls seemed to flutter creepily, movement given by the rapid lights flashing around.

To get through the thick and tightly weaved, writhing and sweaty bodies, Rambo carelessly clasped the angel's wrist and dragged her through the carnage.

Having pulled through the people, on the other side, Scott then led her up the staircases by one hand, but among the havoc and blaring noise, he did not go unnoticed.

A red devil in a tube top glared sinisterly at the pair going upstairs, and followed suit.

Upstairs, the boy stumbled down the long corridors, pointing out various rooms without much thought, and drawling descriptions to the angel with a white beaded mask covering her eyes.

At the end of the hallway, the angel reached out to grab the boy's arm and forcibly turn him towards her.

She bemusedly smiled at him, her eyes unreadable in the white mask. She wore a fancy white bra and underwear lingerie set with sequined trimmings, and a small pair of white feathered angel wings on her back. Her long and toned legs in their silver heels were now rooted firmly to the spot she stood on, not following the boy any further.

Her body, tan, sculpted, and perfect, gave good reason to think she could be an actual Victoria's Secret model.

The boy muttered, "Uhh…"

He scratched his head with helpless abandon, sobering up by now and not knowing what to do with this persistent visitor.

Then, seeing salvation coming from the other end of the hallway, he broke into a sloppy grin and called out, "Jean! Hi."

Jean, a girl with striking red hair, and now glaring green eyes, and wearing a scanty devil costume with devil horns attached to a headband in her hair, strode up to her caller and turning a sweeter-than-sugar look of adoration towards him, barely managed to not growl, "There you are Scott, I've been looking all over for you. Weren't you supposed to meet me with a cup of jungle juice and dance with me to the next song after you gave away candy to trick-or-treaters? Hmm?" She batted her lashes and then gestured towards the other girl, "Angel? Really? Could you be any less obvious Scott? Now Duncan's waiting for me to dance with him, are you gonna dance with me or not?"

Scott fumbled, and blushed, "D-d-dance? Before Duncan?" Jean looked at the cup in Scott's hand and rolled her eyes, "Oh for crying out loud, Scott, really? You're drinking tonight? That is so not you. I don't get why you're acting like this tonight. Can't you just be happy for me and Duncan? He's really not a douche like you think he is. Do you have to ruin Halloween for me?"

Before he could utter another protest, the angel stepped in, whipping off her mask. "Not that I want to break up this nice little bickering, but I'm here for very serious matters and find it disorientating that nobody seems to know who I am or even know that I am supposed to arrive today. What is with the organization and faculty here? There is no management! My old school in Massachusetts is much more superior in etiquette and preparation than this!"

Jean arched a brow and asked, "Scott what is this drunk…slut talking about?"

"Scott?"

He didn't answer, as he was captivated by the face that suddenly appeared from behind the mask.

And seemed to find this stranger interesting…_very_ interesting.

**A.N.: Reviews? Pairings and suggestions accepted.**


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